Stealing the Rest
by e-kaye
Summary: Josh accepts the Democratic nomination as Donna and their daughter watch from the wings.


Author: Kaye  
E-mail address:   
Title: Stealing the Rest  
Characters: Josh, Donna  
Category: Romance  
Pairing: Josh/Donna  
Rating: G  
Summary: Josh accepts the Democratic nomination as Donna and their daughter watch from the wings.

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Thirteen years with this guy and he still blows me away. Still makes me proud.

He stands with me for a moment in the wings, listening to Leo McGarry introduce him, his hair and suit remarkably neat.

He sure does clean up nice.

He leans his forehead against mine, as is his custom, and whispers, "Are you sure about this?"

I giggle softly – it's a little late now.

But I know he needs reassurance, so I just take his hand in mine and nod. I've never been so sure of anything.

He reaches down and looks directly into those big brown eyes. "Catie, are you sure?"

My daughter laughs. Little does Cate know that she's probably going to be weighing in on a lot of important issues once her father takes office.

"Gimme a hug," Josh commands, and my four-year-old obliges. She wraps her little arms around his neck and buries her face in his chest. Josh is nervous, but he hides it in Cate's shoulder.

"I love you, Daddy," she murmurs into his shirt.

"I love you more, Catie."

"Daddy! My name is _Cate_."

I nod to the crowd cheering and I see an assistant approaching to tell my husband it's about time.

"Actually, _Cate_," I mock-admonish, "Your name is _Catharine_."

"I _know_, Mom," she says, arms still thrown behind her daddy's head.

The aide reaches us and taps Josh on the arm. "Mr. Lyman, thirty seconds."

I see the color drop from his face and place a hand on his cheek. "You can do this," I tell him. "I'm sure."

I kiss him softly and then reach for Cate.

"Good luck, Daddy!" she tells him as he's escorted to the stage. He winks back at her as he walks away.

The crowd goes nuts when Josh walks out there. Cate dances around me, obviously thrilled. Half of the country is cheering for her father.

Most little girls my daughter's age would be crashed by this late hour. Catharine Joan Lyman, however, is used to the campaign trail. Josh and I (and the advisors) fought long and hard about bringing Cate along. I wanted her to go to Pre-K and Daisy Girl Scouts like a normal four-year-old. Josh wanted us to accompany him. I was angry, because while Cate can already read, write the alphabet, and recite all fifty states, I wanted her to have normal social interactions with children her own age. In the end, my stubborn husband won, not only with his impressive argument about the benefit of Cate's and my presence as he stumped his way through the midwest, but also with his plaintive pleas to "not make me go so long without seeing my wife and daughter."

That got me.

And the way I look at it now, Cate's getting an education on the election process first-hand – and she's learning to write her name on the campaign bus.

I squat down to Cate's level and whisper, "Can you believe that's your daddy up there?"

"No," she tells me. "But it looks like he believes it."

I look out at my husband and I know that she's right. I finally get it. I never totally grasped the idea that in six short months, we could be back in D.C. At the White House. In the White House.

Different, of course, because my husband will be working out of the Oval Office instead of that hole in the wall. And, you know, because of Cate. Because instead of being fools about our feelings for each other (as we were for the better part of the Bartlet Administration), we're married and we have a baby. I touch Cate's hair gently and she smiles up at me.

That's her daddy up there.

"America is an idea of hope, of liberty, of democracy. It is an idea that we all work toward, that many have died for.

"My parents worked toward the American dream all their lives. They were both children of Jewish immigrants who moved here after the Holocaust. They raised my sister and me to be honest and courageous, to be compassionate and loving, to be rational and strong. My father was a man who made his own living and when he died in 1998, he was a respected litigator. I am very proud to be his son."

I know he worked hard on this section. Josh has an incredible speechwriting staff – headed up by Will Bailey – but he still likes to read – and subsequently agonize over – it himself. He didn't want it to seem like he was boo-hooing over his dead father and sister, even though I promised him he wasn't.

That's me. Donnatella Moss-Lyman – future first lady and Joshua Lyman's personal cheerleader.

I hung up my stenographer's notebook and quit being Josh's assistant two years before the end of the Bartlet Administration. I became the first lady's chief of staff – giving me a great deal of insight for my next job. Leaving Josh's office was sad, of course, but on the upside, we avoided the PR nightmare when we got married in March 2005.

See, the thing about Josh and me is that we're terrified. To be honest, what do you expect from victims of an assassination attempt and a terrorist car bomb? For years, we were terrified of doing anything about our feelings for each other. After that first kiss in my apartment in D.C. (more on that later), we were terrified the media would find out. When we announced our engagement, we were terrified of the backlash.

Today, we're pretty much terrified for Cate. Though Catharine Joan is a fearless four-year-old, we fear for her life. After what happened to us ... to Zoey.

Josh refuses to negotiate on matters concerning our daughter. She has her own detail (plus me, Josh, and Sam) ready to take a bullet for the future first daughter. Cate cannot do anything without me or Josh present, and I have gotten many a mid-meeting text message verifying that I've got Cate.

I hug Cate a little closer. I've got her.

"Tonight, we're here to remember that America can be great again. We must bring education to _all _children, regardless of what color their skin is or what neighborhood they live in. We must strive to leave this country better than we found it, so that our children might have a better life than we had."

Cate tugs at my hand – "Mommy, this is my part!"

Cate's been at all of the rehearsals and has effectively memorized the speech. I wish I could say the same for Joshua, who, to his credit, is doing a great job with the teleprompter.

"I want the world to be peaceful, to be a place where my daughter, Cate, and every other child can grow up safely. No child should ever have to live in fear of bullets or bombs or landmines.

"I've learned a great deal from my four-year-old," he says lightly. "I've learned that being a father means being scared out your pants for the most part. Scared for your child and of them. But you also desperately want to keep them safe. Our children are the world's future, and we must ensure their well-being. Because more than anything – we love them."

Cate claps, and I think about all the choices I've made in my life. All the bad decisions I made – leaving college, going to Gaza, Dr. Free Ride...

They were worth it.

If it hadn't been for the med student fiasco, I wouldn't have realized how unhappy I was. I wouldn't have moved to New Hampshire – wouldn't have met Josh.

Now there's a scary thought – life without Joshua.

Life without Catharine.

Everything has led up to this very moment – standing her with my little girl, eyes fixed on my husband accepting the Democratic nomination for President of the United States.

Some – Cate's godmother, for one – would argue that the way our romance began was a mistake. I had recently returned from Gaza with a reinflated lung, a shattered leg, and an eight-inch scar down my chest.

On my first night alone after Mom left, Josh sensed that I would need some comfort. When he let himself into my apartment, I was sitting in a corner of my bedroom, rocking back and forth crying. He held me and kissed my forehead, my temple, promising me that it would get better. When my tears finally subsided, he tucked me into bed and sat beside me, vowing not to leave that night. He slept beside me, and I got my first decent night of rest since the night before the lockdown.

I awoke to him sitting in the same position he had been the night before, and I was overcome with emotion.

For here was this arrogant, egotistical, stubborn man whose tired face and weary eyes betrayed his sweetness.

I had never been so in love in my entire life.

He leaned down and kissed me softly on the lips – and I knew.

I mean, something in the back of my brain had been screaming, "It's him! It's him!" for the better part of six years, but when he kissed me that morning – untainted even by morning breath – I knew I was finished.

A smile crept up his face as he pulled back and wrapped his arms around me. With tiny tears in his eyes, he looked back at me.

"I'm so glad you're okay," was all he could muster.

CJ thinks he took advantage of the situation. I think Josh just knew.

Either way, we were engaged three months later.

See, if people knew these stories, Josh would win this election hand over fist. I am married to the most arrogant, most romantic man in America.

Cate snaps me back to reality by stage-whispering, "It's almost time for your part, Mommy!"

I blink away a few of the tears that have curiously accumulated in my eyes.

Which is pretty much a crapshoot, since I know I'm going to lose it when he starts the section.

"I love my wife Donna more than I did on the day I met her," he begins. "I love her more than I did on the day I first kissed her. I love her more than I did on the night of our first date. I love her more than I did the night she agreed to marry me, and the night she did. I love her more than I did on the day she told me we were expecting a baby and the day Catharine Joan Lyman was born. I love my wife Donna more than I did yesterday."

The tears are freely running down my face now and Cate's clinging to my side.

"Your father is very sweet sometimes," I tell her.

"Donna Moss-Lyman has a great capacity to love. She is the most intelligent woman I know. She is caring, witty, and never fails to remind me what's truly important in life. She will bring great spirit and dedication to the White House as First Lady."

As I curse my decision to wear mascara, Cate spots a familiar face approaching.

"Uncle Sam!" she says excitedly, leaving her sentry post beside me to converse with the future Chief of Staff.

"Little CJ!" he calls back, lifting her up. Mr. Workaholic Seaborn looks decidedly more crumply than my sharply-dressed husband. As for her nickname, it wasn't until her godmother pointed out that they shared initials that I realized the similarity.

Because of the initials and feminista tendencies shared by the namesakes, our friends from the White House have chosen to call Catharine "Little CJ" almost exclusively.

"Uncle Sam, Daddy's giving his 'ceptance speech."

"Acceptance," I correct.

"Yes, sweetheart, I know," Sam says. "How do you think he's doing?"

"His deliv'ry is strong," she says haughtily, recalling a phrase she must have heard in this morning's meeting. "And he made Mommy cry. I'd say he's doing pretty good."

"Pretty well," I tell her.

What? It's never too early to teach a kid proper adverbs.

Sam winks at me and then focuses back on Cate. "So do you think he's winning over the female voters?"

"Oh, definitely," my daughter states.

See, she looks like your average four-year-old – long, straight, blond Moss hair and dark brown Lyman eyes – but underneath she's a child prodigy, dazzling everyone with her political acumen and highly impressive vocabulary.

Ms. Catharine Joan Lyman is going to be a serious contender in the 2054 election.

"Sam, he looks like a president."

"I know," Sam replies. "You two are going to be the modern-day John and Jackie."

I scoff. "Minus all the ... you know ... Kennedy-ism."

"FDR and Eleanor?"

"John and Abigail."

"Kicking it old school, I see."

"You know, Abigail Adams proposed an equal rights amendment."

"I did not know that."

"She believed – and was correct in stating – that the Constitution placed too much unlimited power in the hands of the husbands."

"Well, go, Abigail Adams."

"Who's Abigail Adams?" Cate asks.

"Second first lady."

"What?"

"She was the second woman ever to be first lady."

"Like you're going to be first lady, Mommy?"

"Yes," I smile. "Like Mommy's going to be first lady."

"Anyway," Sam tells me, "You're right."

"About Abigail Adams? Of course I'm..."

"About Josh."

Cate was two-and-a-half when Josh decided to do this. I had my hands full already, trying to make sense of his assistant-less office at the Capitol and caring for our toddler.

He was pacing the office and I knew there was something he wasn't telling me.

"Donna, I want to run for President."

This was out of the blue – it wasn't in the plan. Another baby and a Senate race were in the plan.

He sat down – finally – and explained it to me. Somehow, he got me to agree.

Because I loved him. And because, let's face it – it's an awesome story to write home about. I could just see the headline in the Wisconsin State Journal: _Lyman wins presidency, local woman becomes first lady._

But mostly, I loved Josh.

So we scrapped the Senate campaign and decided we were good with just the one kid.

My Cate. I take her from Sam as we listen to Josh discuss the issues.

"For my family, these issues are not just important – they're personal. I will not tolerate guns affecting the lives of any more people in America. From my first day in office until my last, I will crusade for gun control legislation. What many of my fellow Americans and I have suffered – the pain of a bullet wound – cannot be tolerated any longer.

"Fighting with Middle Eastern nations has gotten the current administration nowhere, and we must bring peace – not through war, but through democracy. My wife bears a scar because of unrest in the Middle East just as I bear mine for lax gun control laws. And together with our supporters, world leaders, and the congress of the United States, Donna and I will fight for the future – so that Cate and her playmates will never fear a bullet or a bomb. Their primary – their only – concerns will be of lemonade stands and learning the alphabet."

I smile at Cate excitedly; the speech is almost over, meaning it's almost time for us to join Josh onstage to smile and wave.

"We will take back the White House and we will fight for the future. It is with great pride and privilege that I accept your nomination for the Presidency of the United States!"

Thunderous applause erupts as he finishes, "God Bless America! Shalom!"

The "Shalom" was a long-debated topic which Josh adamantly fought for. He wanted it in; the staff wanted it gone.

Josh's argument? "I'm Jewish – get over it."

Sam kisses my cheek and cries, "I knew you two would make it."

I don't know if he's referring to the campaign or our marriage, but either way, it gives me the courage I need to go. I hoist Cate onto my hip and power walk to Josh. As practiced, we wave and smile for a minute and then switch Cate to her father.

I watch him holding our daughter, I see the "Lyman for President" signs waving in the audience, and I can't help but smile.

How did I end up here?

I kiss my husband – and I know. I know that this is what's meant to be. It's Josh, Cate, and me. The next first family.

I once told my husband that so long as he had his health and strength, we could steal the rest. And as I stand here as Josh prepares to steal the White House from a lousy Republican, I am reminded of my statement.

Sure, I'd add a thing or two (because in addition to health and strength, we need each other and Cate), but as long as we've got that, anything in possible.

Even winning the White House.


End file.
